"Apparently Sault talked about souls as though they were microbes. Smith, being a God-fearing man, was shocked. To him the soul stands in the same relationship to the body as the inner tube of a tire to the cover. He is something of a spiritualist, and spiritualism is the most material of the occult sciences--it insists that spirits shall have noses and ears like other respectable ghosts. From what he said, I couldn't make head or tail of Sault's view." "Ambrose is not mad," said the girl, "he is the sanest man I have ever met, or will meet. His view is different: he himself is different. You cannot judge him by any ordinary standard." "You call him 'Ambrose'," said Sir John in surprise, "is he a friend of yours?" "Yes." She said no more than that, and he did not press the question. It was impossible to explain Ambrose. VI A call at the Colebrook's in the afternoon or evening had become a regular practice since Christina had stayed with her. Evie had very carefully avoided being at home when Beryl called. "I'm sorry I don't like your aristocratic friend, and I know it is a great comfort to have somebody to speak to, about poor Mr. Sault, but I simply can't stand her, Ronnie says that he quite understands my dislike. Christina, do you think Miss Merville is a--you won't be offended, will you? Do you think she is a good girl?" "Good? Do you mean, does she go to church?" "Don't be silly. Do you think she is a--virtuous girl? Ronnie says that some of these society women are awfully fast. He says it wouldn't be so bad if there was love in it, because love excuses everything, and the real wicked people are those who marry for money." "Like Beryl," said Christina, "and love may excuse everything--like you--he hopes." Evie sighed patiently. "Do you know what I think about Ronnie?" asked Christina. "I'm sure I don't want to know," snapped Evie, roused out of her attitude of martyrdom. "I think he is a damned villain!--shut up, I'm going to say it. I think he is the very lowest blackguard that walks the earth! He is--" But Evie had snatched up her coat and fled from the room. Christina's orders from the osteopath were to go to bed early. She was making extraordinary progress and had walked unassisted down the stairs that very day--she was lying dressed on the bed when Beryl arrived. "I suppose you'll liken me to the squire's good wife visiting the indigent sick," she said, "but I've brought a basket of things--fruit mostly. Do you mind?" "I've always wanted to meet Lady Bountiful," said Christina. "I thought she never stepped from the Christmas magazine covers. Did you meet Evie?" "No, I thought she was out." "She's hiding in the scullery," said Christina calmly. "She doesn't like me. Ronnie, I suppose?" Christina nodded. "Ronnie at first hand may be endurable: as interpreted by Evie he is--there is only one word to describe him--I promised mother that I would never use it again. Any news?"